“How was your day, Papa?” she asked cautiously.

Hers had been pretty grim, between worrying about her mother and caring for a sick boy.

“Long. How was yours?”

“I was with Teddy all day.” She expected him to ask more about it, but at the mention of her brother, her father looked instantly bored as he poured himself a glass of port.

“What else did you do?” he asked, focusing on his cigar, and it felt strange sitting there talking to him as though nothing had happened. Her mother was in a coma in a hospital in London, and her brother had been failing since he heard. And her father seemed astonishingly unconcerned. And as she looked at him, all she could think of was the look of devastation on Bill Robinson's face when he talked about her mother. She saw none of that in her father's eyes. He seemed distant and cool whenever he referred to her.

“That's all I did today, Papa. I stayed with Teddy. He's very upset.” Gordon nodded, and didn't answer her. He seemed to almost forget she was there, and then the phone rang. And he told whoever it was that he'd call back. Sophie's heart had nearly stopped when she heard it. Every time the phone rang now, she was terrified that it was a call from London to tell them the worst.

“You should go to bed,” Gordon said as he sipped his port, dismissing her. “You've had a long day.” It was obvious he didn't want to talk, and Sophie was hurt. She had never felt as alone in her life as she did now.

“When are you going back to London?” she asked quietly before she left.

“When I think I should,” he said tersely, frowning at her. She was annoying him. She had turned into her mother overnight.

“I want to go back with you,” she said, aware of the fact that he wasn't pleased with her, but for the moment, she didn't care.

“Your brother needs you here.”

“I want to see Mom again.” She sounded young and stubborn, and he wasn't amused.

“She won't even know you're there. I need you here. I can't worry about that boy and his nurses all day. They call me at the office all day long, I don't have time for that, Sophie. You need to take care of him.” He didn't ask her, he just told her what she had to do, and expected her to do as he said.

“‘ That boy’ is your son, Papa. And he needs you too, not just me or Mom. You never talk to him.” She was too tired to hold back anymore.

“He has nothing to say,” Gordon said harshly, pouring himself another glass of port. “And it's not up to you to tell me what to do.” It was a conversation Isabelle had had with him many times over the years, and she had given up long ago. For reasons of his own, based on past history among other things, Gordon was determined not to have a relationship with his son. And in her naïveté, Sophie could not change that. If Teddy had been healthy and strong and able to participate in things that interested his father, it would have been a different story. But as he was, as far as Gordon was concerned, the boy didn't exist and was of no interest to him. If anything, he was an irritant to him, although he felt sorry for him now. All Teddy was was an annoyance and a burden to his father. And as far as Gordon was concerned, he was Isabelle's job, not his. And in her absence, he was Sophie's.

Just hearing the way her father spoke of him made Sophie sad as she went to her room. She and Teddy had talked about it over the years, and he always said things like that about their father, and she had argued about it with him. But now she saw it was true. Teddy said their father was mean and selfish and cold and hated him. And now she could see that Teddy knew a side of him she had never wanted to see. As far as Gordon was concerned, having a son like Teddy was no credit to him. He preferred to shut him away and forget him, just as he had his wife.

Sophie put her nightgown on in her own room, and then went back to Teddy's room. The nurse said he had a fever again, and Sophie climbed into his bed and cuddled up next to him. She felt as though they were two children who had lost their mother for the time being, and she had never felt as sad or as lonely in her life. And all she could hope, as her tears ran into her pillow, was that their mother would wake from her coma soon. She couldn't begin to imagine what their life would be like if she died.





Chapter 9




Things moved along at the hospital in London. Physical therapists came to assess Bill and plan a rehabilitation program for him. They were turning him frequently in his bed to keep his circulation moving, and prevent pneumonia, but the days were boring for him. And once or twice a day he had his bed wheeled into Isabelle's room. The nurses had paid no attention to Gordon's instructions, and several of them hoped it would do her good to be visited by Bill. It did no harm in any case, and it raised Bill's spirits noticeably. He always felt better when he visited her. He missed their late-night talks terribly. And he lay in his hospital bed for hours, thinking about her just across the hall. He looked forward all day to the few minutes he could spend at her side.

His own injuries were starting to heal a little bit. His neck and spine still caused him a lot of pain, but he was able to move more than he could before, and he had some vague phantom sensations in his legs. But in spite of that, the prognosis for him had not changed. He was trying to keep his spirits up, and think about what he was going to do when he got back to the States, but the changes he was facing now were unspeakably hard.

He had become a favorite with the nursing staff, and there were whispered exchanges as people tried to guess what his relationship with Isabelle was, but there was no easy explanation for what they saw. Most of them guessed that he'd been having an affair with her, and one of the nurses had overheard him telling his wife that he wanted a divorce, but whatever his situation was, or had been, with Isabelle, they knew that they liked him, and thought him a very nice man.

“I'll take him!” one of the nurses said while talking to a group of her co-workers in the cafeteria. “He's a good-looking guy.” But he hadn't made advances toward any of them, he was never fresh, rude, ungentle-manly, and everyone who talked to him genuinely admired him. They also noted that the American ambassador had come to see him several times.

“What does he do?” another nurse asked, looking confused, she couldn't remember what she'd heard, although they knew that he was an important man.

“Something in politics,” one of Isabelle's nurses said. “He must have been crazy about her. It's such a shame.” They were all in full agreement on that.

Gordon hadn't been back to see his wife yet, and neither had Sophie when Cynthia and their daughters came back after their Paris trip. They were in high spirits when they arrived, and they looked sobered when they left, after Cynthia and Bill told the girls that they were getting divorced. Olivia and Jane were shocked.

“Why?” Olivia sat in her father's hospital room and cried. “You guys love each other… don't you? Mom? … Dad?? …” The girls had always thought that they did, but Bill tried to explain that they had drifted apart over the years, and he thought it was better for both of them if they parted ways. He didn't want to tell them about their mother's affairs, or how unhappy they'd both been. They'd kept it to themselves for years. And he had to admit, he thought things were better in some ways since he'd told her it was over for him. He felt more honest and open with her now. But Cynthia made it clear to him before they left that if he changed his mind, she would prefer to stay married to him. But Bill was gentle but firm. He no longer wanted to be married to her. All his dreams now were of Isabelle.

“It's better this way,” he insisted, but Cynthia was very upset by the reaction of the girls. He didn't want to explain that he couldn't see her married to an invalid, or someone handicapped at best. But more than anything, he just wasn't in love with her anymore. What he had felt for Isabelle had told him many things about himself and what he didn't have. He didn't want to live a lie anymore. He knew he would never have a life with Isabelle, whether she recovered or not, but the fact that he was and had been in love with her was enough to tell him that it was time for him to get out of a loveless marriage he'd been willing to settle for, for too long.

He was quiet and pensive after they left. And he had promised to call the girls often when they got home. They asked their mother on the way back to the hotel if they thought their father was a little crazy from the accident, or the bump on his head, and if she thought he might change his mind. She smiled sadly and shook her head.

“He's not crazy. I guess I was for a long time. I wasn't a very good wife to him,” she confessed. “I took him for granted, and I resented his success and independence, which was lousy of me.” They had seen none of it, which was something at least, and they were crushed at the thought that their parents would live in separate homes.

“How's Daddy going to take care of himself now?” Jane asked, looking worried. His injuries were serious, and they had been told that he might not be able to walk again.

“I don't know,” Cynthia said with a sigh. “He's very proud, and very capable. He'll figure something out. But in answer to your question, Jane, no, I don't think he'll change his mind. He never does. Once he gets an idea in his head, he usually sticks with it, no matter what. He won't even admit it if he's made a mistake, he'll just live with it. But as much as I hate what he's doing, I don't think it's wrong for him.” In a way, he had done what he wanted to, he had preserved their friendship by ending their marriage, and in spite of her regrets, Cynthia admired him for it. She just felt sorry for the girls, it was a real blow for them, and she was frightened for herself. She knew she'd never find another man like Bill.